


Heritage

by pipisafoat



Series: Harry Granger [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Harry, Aurors, Canonical Child Abuse, Department of Muggle Relations, Durmstrang, Gen, Goblins, Godric's Hollow, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Hogwarts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magical Renovation, Pre-Series, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Politics, Pureblood Society, Squibs, Tutoring, lycanthropy, other magical school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: Adoption is only the beginning of helping an abused boy overcome his early childhood. Add in the fact that the boy is famous in a world you've only just learned exists, the fact that your blood daughter also belongs to that world, and the fact that you've just found out you were born to that world? The quest to find your heritage and to honor Harry Granger's heritage even as he finds his place in your family is not easy.(rating for some mild language and a tiny bit of innuendo & references to semi-adult situations)





	

Emily Granger picks up the phone while she's still taking off her shoes. "Good afternoon, Granger residence."

"You took away our protection when you took that freak!" a feminine voice shrieks over the line. "How dare you endanger my son and my husband and myself!"

Emily thinks hard. "Er, Mrs. Dursley?"

"Yes, it's me! You're welcome to keep that boy at your house as much as you want to keep him out of my hair, but he has to keep providing this protection on my house! I'll charge you with child endangerment for take the protection from my Dudley!"

"If anyone will be charged with child endangerment, it's the woman who locked her nephew in a closet for three days with nothing more than two slices of bread and a glass of water," Emily replies coldly. There's a long silence on the line.

"My family will be hunted by that madman now," Mrs. Dursley says lowly. "I'm holding you responsible if we get hurt."

"I recommend contacting Headmaster Dumbledore on that subject," she returns. "I'm sure he would know more."

Mrs. Dursley huffs into her phone. "That ... that ... _man_ told us that we're still in danger if the madman returns."

"More danger than anyone else in Britain?"

"Harry Potter lived in our house, and he's the one who'll be hunted down and killed first! I don't imagine a serial killer will much care about our lives after finding out his prey doesn't live here anymore. It's all the more reason to kill us!"

Emily rolls her eyes. "I doubt anyone will be concerned about where Harry used to live. They'd much rather find where he currently lives. If anything, you're more safe now than you were with Harry living with you. God knows he's safer now."

"He'll kill us all in our sleep!" Mrs. Dursley shrieks. "We're in _danger_!"

"I ask you again, more danger than anyone else in Britain? Perhaps if you moved house, you'd feel safer."

"Moved.... Yes, of course. If we leave the country, that madman wouldn't bother to hunt us down. Not as long as you keep the freak in Britain where he belongs!"

"Rest assured, we have no intention of following you or even keeping up with so much as what country you're in if you move away," Emily says dryly. "Can I trust you won't be phoning again?"

Mrs. Dursley almost growls down the line before hanging up, and Emily shakes her head. She can't imagine what life must be like for Dudley. He may be happy now, but he'll end up spoiled and unable to hold a steady job, possibly even a criminal.

She's even more glad she managed to get Harry out of that poor excuse for a home than before. If she's lucky, they'll leave the country before the custody hearing, letting the Grangers legally adopt Harry with a minimum of fuss.

* * *

> _Ministry of Magic_  
>  Muggle Liaison Office and Misuse of Magic Office  
>  London 
> 
> _To Whom It May Concern,_
> 
> _As a squib who was adopted by nonmagical people at a young age, I wish to inquire about my family history for the benefit of my magical children. Please advise me in the proper avenues to pursue to ensure my children are aware of their magical heritage and culture of origin prior to enrollment in school in the wizarding world. I also wish to reach out to any remaining family members to invite them to meet their magical kin._
> 
> _With gratitude,_
> 
> _Emily Granger  
>  Mother of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter Granger_

"I'm sorry I used your birth name without asking you first," Emily says as her children hand back the copy of her note.

"Did it help?" Harry asks the man standing in their living room wearing a neat business suit.

He nods. "Your birth name opens doors that might otherwise be closed, Mr. Potter- I mean, Mr. Granger. Your mother's inquiry would have been answered eventually, but your name is the reason I am here two days later rather than two years later."

"I don't mind, then," Harry says to his mother.

"Mrs. Granger, to verify your suspected ancestry, we must do a blood test. It is the work of only three drops of blood and less than ten minutes, but the spellwork for the test is known only to the goblins. Would you allow me to escort the three of you to Gringotts, the wizarding bank and public face of the goblin nation, to complete the test? I'm afraid without confirmation of ancestry, I cannot give you any further information."

She frowns at him. "First of all, I'd like to know what the cost of the test would be and if it requires anything other than blood, money, and time. Second, I want to know where the bank is and how you plan on traveling as well as how long it would take to travel by car. Third, I'm quite interested why you believe my children should come but not my husband, who will arrive home in five minutes. Finally, before I trust you or go anywhere with you, I'd like to know your name and see some identification that shows you truly are with the Ministry of Magic."

"Jeremy Hoftrotter." He flashes her his credentials briefly, putting them away before she can properly study them. "The cost is ten galleons, which is quite reasonable, especially if you do have the ancestry we suspect. The bank is in Diagon Alley, and we'll take a portkey, which takes only moments. Much faster than any poor Muggle traveling method. Your children should come to see Diagon Alley and get used to seeing magic and behaving like proper magical children, and your husband should not come because I do not travel with Muggles. If you would take hold of this folder, it is the Portkey that will take us to the bank."

Emily's eyes narrow. "Mr. Hoftrotter, I'm afraid I will not be accompanying you, nor will my children. In fact, I'm of a mind to file a formal complaint with your department about your behavior today. For future reference, please remember that people may wish to actually see the identification you flash so quickly, nonmagical people and methods are not inherently inferior, the name of one street is not sufficient location for those less familiar with the magical world, and it is very rude to negatively judge your client's husband and children. Please have someone more polite and well-versed in the nonmagical world visit at their convenience; I will be available every afternoon this week. May I show you to the door, or would you prefer to leave in a more magical way?"

"Now see here!" the man says, stepping towards Emily, but Harry jumps in front of her.

"Don't talk to my mum like that!" he says bravely, holding one hand in front of him. "If she wants you to leave, you need to leave!"

"Mr. Potter-"

"I'm Harry Granger!"

"You are Harry Potter, and you will learn your place, boy!" Hoftrotter lifts a hand only to have it caught in a tight grip around the wrist.

"You'll not be insulting and harming my family, sir," Sam Granger says in a low voice before using his grip to make Hoftrotter step back and turn away from Emily and Harry. "You are no longer welcome in this house. If you do not leave promptly, we will summon law enforcement."

Hoftrotter sneers at them as he yanks his wrist out of Sam's grasp. "You don't know how to call for Aurors."

He disappears with a pop, and Harry falls to his knees.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

The boy nods. "I made him go outside, Dad, but he's trying to get back in."

"I'll call the bobbies and see if they know how to call the Aurors, too," the man promises his son as he rushes out of the room.

It's no longer than five minutes later that Hermione squeals from her new place on the arm of the sofa, peeking out the curtains. “Somebody’s talking to that awful man!” she informs the room as her brother heaves a deep breath and gets to his feet. “Two men in really oddly colored suits!"

“Whoever they are, they’ve stopped him from coming back inside,” Harry adds. “I didn’t think I could keep him out much longer."

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t have to wear yourself out like that,” Emily says quietly, stroking his hair yet again.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought I should protect my family?"

She nods, giving him a small but sincere smile in return. “I appreciate that, Harry. It was a really generous and sweet thought, and I’m grateful that you sent that horrid man outside. I’m just worried that you exhausted yourself. It’s my job to take care of you, even making sure that you’re healthy while you protect us."

“Okay,” Harry replies, but he still looks a little bit worried. A firm knock on the front door interrupts any further conversation, though Emily makes a mental note about the situation. Her new son has come a long way in believing in his self-worth, and he's starting to trust his new parents, but she wants to address everything new that comes up before it can spiral into something too big for them to handle.

“Emily, kids, this is Janelle Crawford and Auror Hawkins,” Sam says as he led a well-dressed young lady and an older gentleman into the living room. Emily smiles in relief at their visitors' sensible, non-magical clothing, even if the man’s suit is a rather horrifying shade of orange. “Ms. Crawford is from the Department of Muggle Relations, and Auror Hawkins is … well, an Auror."

Hermione giggles at her father’s less than inspiring introduction, and Emily fights down her own giggle even as she shushes her daughter with a wave of her hand.

“Nice to meet you both,” she says, offering her hand. Ms. Crawford shakes it without hesitation or discomfort, but Emily notices Auror Hawkins watch the handshake carefully and wait for a slight nod from the younger lady before doing the same, awkwardly. “Auror Hawkins, I believe we have you to thank for relieving us of the burden of that Ministry employee?"

Auror Hawkins nods. “My partner is accompanying Mr. Hoftrotter back to the Ministry as we speak,” he tells them all in a quiet, deep voice. “He is most certainly on suspension from his job until the investigation is complete. Your husband - and father,” he adds, twitching the smallest smile towards the avidly listening children, “has already shared most of the story with me, but I have one other item to investigate before I leave you with Ms. Crawford, if you’re comfortable with that."

“Wait,” Harry says suddenly, coming closer to his mother and leaning against her slightly. He stares at the gentleman with slightly narrowed eyes. “Dad wasn’t here for the beginning. That’s not very good investigating, Mr. Hawkins. I’d rather we tell you the whole story again."

“I came in just as your mother was saying I would be home soon and asked him for identification,” Sam clarifies, and Emily wraps her arm around her son’s shoulders as he leans more heavily against her. Hermione jumps up from the couch and comes to stand just behind her brother.

“That wasn’t quite the beginning, hon,” Emily tells her husband. “Auror Hawkins, I think my son is correct that you should hear the full story."

“And promise us that the full story will go in the report against Hoftrotter,” Harry insists. Emily feels Hermione touch her brother’s back, then Harry stands a bit straighter. “It would be too easy for something to get missed and the man never to get the correct punishment, just because we can’t visit the Ministry to follow up."

Auror Hawkins looks a bit taken aback but quickly nods. “Of course, Mr. Potter. I promise the full story I hear from you as well as what I heard from Jeremy will go into the report. In fact, I will clear the paperwork for Ms. Crawford to serve as your ears within the Ministry for this case, if you would like?"

Emily turns her attention to her younger child, who leans into Hermione’s hand under the back of his shirt as he narrows his eyes at the auror again. “Ms. Crawford, would you agree to be the liaison for myself and my family in this matter?” he asks slowly, and the young witch’s eyes fly wide open.

“Certainly, young sir."

Harry relaxes again and turns his attention to her with a shy smile. “Um, is there anything I have to do to make that formal or something?"

“No, young sir. Until the case is closed or you or your adoptive parents revoke the agreement, I am your liaison. We’ll have to discuss what you’d like me to do on your behalf, of course, but there’s no formality."

“Then don’t call him young sir,” Hermione interjects. “He’s just Harry."

“Young sir?"

“What she said."

“Thank you, Harry. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Auror Hawkins clears his throat loudly. “Could we proceed to the testimony so I can leave you to do your job, Junior Officer Crawford?"

The young woman smiles at him. “I believe it’s Liaison Crawford during matters related to the case, but I have no objections to that course of action if Harry and his family don’t."

* * *

When the testimonies are all finished - ink on the scrolls dried with a quick flick of a wand, scrolls rolled smartly with a tidy twist of a wand, and deep purple ribbon fastened around the scrolls with a short flourish of a wand - Auror Hawkins has departed the Granger home, and the family is having a cup of tea with Ms. Crawford, Sam decides it's well past time for them to catch up a bit to what's going on in their own lives.

“Liaison Crawford,” he muses aloud, getting her attention in the process. “What exactly does that title entail?"

The younger woman sets her teacup back on the service and straightens the slightest bit in her chair. “First of all, it’s limited to matters that directly relate to the case against Officer Hoftrotter. You could expand that at any time by filing additional paperwork with the Ministry, but the Liaison position is only used in the judicial arena, so as long as there aren’t several cases that involve you, there’s not really a need to expand it.

“As for what it entails…. The laws are a bit—“ She glances at the kids, then holds firm eye contact with Sam. “Outdated in some ways. In addition to that, the Ministry itself can be a bit difficult for a muggle or muggle-raised person to navigate at first. The Liaison position can be used to compensate for that. I can go to the Ministry to inquire on the status of the case much more easily than you could, for example.” Sam doesn’t miss the single slightly-raised eyebrow, and he nods at her to confirm that he understood the layer of meaning beneath her words. The magical world is biased against nonmagical people, then; Hoftrotter hadn’t been the exception. Liaisons surely hadn’t come into practice as a way to aid muggles, but the position has been accidentally helpful. 

“However, Auror Hawkins mentioned paperwork that allowed me to be ‘your eyes and ears’? Asking about case status and attending hearings - if they aren’t private, of course - to report back to you is all that paperwork would allow. It’s just an addendum on the original case that I’m keeping you informed instead of the Auror department following up with the court dates and verdict. As your Liaison, though, I have some legal standing during trials to voice your opinions. I can’t testify for you, of course, but if you felt strongly for or against a certain penalty, I can relay that to the Wizengamot officially. I can also take additional written testimonies and deliver them, though if that’s necessary I’d need advance notice to get the tamper-proof parchment and quills."

Emily hums from her armchair beside him. “Are you legally or magically compelled to do the Liaison job particularly well?”

Crawford startles. “No, but it wouldn’t make a difference if I were. I’m morally and ethically compelled to do so. I mean, if it makes a difference to you, I can swear a magically binding oath. I’m happy to. What wording would you want to use?”

Sam chuckles and holds out a hand as the young woman pulls her wand out. “No, no, we have to start trusting one another sometime, Ms. Crawford. It was a question, not a suggestion.”

“Oh, I see. My apologies.” She stows her wand in an inner pocket with a blush starting to stain her cheeks and ears. “Well, if we’re trusting each other and going to be working together for the case, I’d like to invite you to call me Janelle. Even the kids, if you’re comfortable with that?”

Sam meets Emily’s eyes, holds a silent conversation with eyebrows, and then nods at Janelle. “Of course, Janelle. Harry and Hermione know how to respect adults even with first names.”

“Yes, sir!” the siblings reply in unison before breaking up with laughter at their accidental timing.

“And we’re Sam and Emily.”

Janelle smiles, seemingly relaxed for the first time. “Well, I’ll be in touch with anything about the case, of course, but how would you prefer that? I have a telephone at home if you’d rather I not just show up or send owls.”

“Owls?” Harry interrupts. “Even if Mum and Dad want you to call, can you send me an owl? Just so I can see one up close?”

“They aren’t toys, Harry,” Hermione responds with a tone of long suffering. “Even if they’ve been domesticated, they’re still large birds with sharp talons that can cause you harm.”

“And cats are tiny lions, waiting to maul you in your sleep.”

“Harry!”

The boy looks down sharply. “Sorry, Mum.”

“We would prefer a phone call, Janelle, but yes, you may send Harry an owl sometime if you’d like. Please don’t feel that you must, though.”

“Okay. I haven’t had a chance to look into the specifics of what led you to contact the Department of Muggle Relations in the first place, so I’ll give you a call in the next day or two to discuss that. Let me know if there’s any other way I can help you, alright?”

Sam grins. “Now that you mention it, it seems like we could all use a bit of education in how to deal with the magical world, the children the most, of course. Are there any sort of courses we could enroll in?"

* * *

Remus Lupin had always assumed that he’d end up tutoring Harry Potter. Literally always. Since the day he met James (and Peter, and that-asshole-traitor), he assumed he’d end up tutoring all their poor children. This assumption was given a heavy dose of hesitation when James actually managed to get Lily Evans to go on a date with him, but it came back in full force when he watched her try to help Pete with a Potions essay. The girl was brilliant, no doubt about it, but she couldn’t teach to save her life, so Tutoring James’s Kid(s) went back on Remus’s mental lifelong to-do list. It rocketed up to top of that list when he met the infant Harry and instantly fell in love, and it wavered only slightly when James and Lily were murdered. (Professor Dumbledore told him he wouldn’t be able to watch Harry grow up in the Muggle world as a safety measure, but once the boy started at Hogwarts, Remus intended to be on hand.)

So when he wakes up in the morning, he doesn't consciously think about it, but he does still expect to tutor Harry Potter at some point in his life. The shock comes in three stages. First, his Floo lights up with an old Hogwarts girlfriend waiting to talk to him, though he supposes that shouldn’t technically count as part of the tutoring shock. The real tutoring shock, then, is when she offers to get him in touch with Harry and his “new family” (interesting phrasing but of course; his original family had been murdered) for tutoring when he's only eight years old. Just when he’s gotten his brain settled around the fact that his eventual tutoring is starting completely off the schedule he’d imagined, Janelle drops another bomb.

“He’s still technically Harry Potter in the wizarding world, but not for much longer. The muggle world has already legalized his name change to Harry Granger. And Remus … he feels pretty strongly about it. I can almost guarantee you won’t get anywhere with him or his sister-"

“Sister!?"

“If you don’t call him Harry Granger. And yes, sister. Adoptive, obviously, but practically joined at the hip when it comes to anything magical or family-related. Her name is Hermione, and she’s going to be even more of a swot than you were, I reckon."

Remus rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Says the Ravenclaw who dumped me to study for OWLs. In October."

She grins at him. “And I got top marks for doing it, didn’t I?"

“A couple of swots dating and studying together couldn’t have done any worse than those same two swots not dating and studying separately."

“You’re right, of course. All we did was study when we were together. No distracting snogging sessions because you liked the way I bit my lip when I was reading something particularly difficult."

“More like because you liked the way I chewed on a pen cap when I was deciding how to phrase something in an essay."

Janelle’s grin widens. “What can I say? I appreciated your oral skills. Though I’ve realized since then how utterly weird you were, chewing on a pen cap while writing with a quill."

Remus can’t contain the belly laugh as he recalls that particular habit. “Yeah, well … feathers just don’t feel the same? I mostly write with a pen nowadays, so it’s less weird."

“If you say so.” Janelle winks at him, then seems to refocus. “So, the Grangers. Muggle and magical tutoring, full time from now until they graduate Hogwarts or whatever school they end up at, two kids. I know it’s more than you planned on signing up for, but don’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling. Do you want the job, or shall I advertise in the Prophet?"

He growls at her without actually meaning to, but she takes it as an intentional playful growl. “Down, boy! I’ll get you in touch with them in the next couple of days, then."

“Thanks, Janelle."

Her face goes suddenly serious after their joking. “He deserves the best. You’re good at tutoring in both worlds, Remus, but he needs more than just a tutor. I need your promise that you’ll be that for him."

“But his new father—"

“Didn’t know his birth parents."

There’s a long moment of silence as Remus turns over a thousand different thoughts in his head at lightning speed. “Is he ready for that?"

Janelle’s mouth quirks as her eyebrows raise and lower quickly. “Maybe?"

“Okay."

“Are you ready for that?"

He sighs heavily. “Maybe. For Harry. Yeah. Anything for him. I thought there’d be a whole crowd of little ones, but he’s the only member of the next generation."

The conversation is pretty much dead after that, and Remus is relieved when Janelle retracts her head from the fire. He goes to the little writing desk in the corner of his room and pulls over a spiral bound notebook and a pen. He has three lists to make: Granger Magical Studies, Granger Muggle Studies, and Harry History. The last topic will be pro bono, of course, but there’s no harm in jotting down an outline to be sure he doesn’t miss any important points when he teaches.

* * *

"Hermione, Harry!"

The siblings race each other down the stairs and almost crash into the doorway to the living room. "Yes, Mum?" Hermione answers for both of them as Harry laughs and steadies them both against falling.

"Kids, I'd like you to meet someone we're considering for a tutor for you in magical arts," their mother replies, gesturing to a man sitting in their father's armchair. "This is Remus Lupin. Mr. Lupin, these are my children, Harry and Hermione."

"Hi, Mr. Lupin," they chorus as they entered the room.

The man blinks slowly before replying. "Please excuse my asking, but did you once have the last name of Potter? I'm sure everyone from the wizarding world asks you that, but I was a friend of the family. It's okay if you don't want to answer."

Harry frowns and studies the man in front of him, but the instincts that usually tell him whether or not to trust a person aren't speaking to him.

"Harry, I'm not sure if you're aware of what you're attempting to do, but I'm afraid you won't be able to read me as you must do others. It's a side effect of a condition I suffer from." Mr. Lupin looks down. "I had hoped to bring it up at a later date instead of on our first meeting."

"Is this condition contagious or dangerous to my children?"

The man looks uncomfortable. "Yes, but only under certain conditions that I will avoid at all costs. It does affect the timing of my tutoring services, though."

"And how sure can you be that you'll not have these certain conditions arise unexpectedly?" Dan Granger asks as he entered the room, pulling off his jacket as he comes in.

Mr Lupin smiles. "Remus Lupin, Mr. Granger, and I am absolutely certain, as it is tied to an absolutely predictable schedule and cannot be brought on at any other time."

"So there are some days when you'd be sick and not teaching us?" Hermione asks.

"That is the simplest way of looking at it," Mr. Lupin responds. "When I am not ... When the timing is not precisely right, I am completely healthy and not contagious or dangerous. Ah, unless I were to pick up an unrelated illness, of course."

The Granger adults look at each other for a long moment before Emily speaks. "Mr. Lupin, I appreciate your candor in bringing this up right away, but I'm afraid we'll need more than just your word that your health condition won't pose a threat to the children. We don't need to know what it is, just that our kids are safe."

"I am under the impression that you wouldn't trust the word of Albus Dumbledore alone that they would be safe with me. Would you accept a letter to that effect from the nurse at Hogwarts, or would you prefer such a thing from a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital?"

Harry interrupts before his parents can reply. "Did my parents know? Were you ... sick back then?"

"Yes, Harry. I've had this condition since I was younger than you are now. Your father knew since I believe our fourth year at Hogwarts, and your mother found out in our sixth or seventh year. I was around you regularly when you were an infant and even babysat you alone, though I'll admit changing diapers has never been my favorite thing."

The boy nods decisively. "Prove you knew them. Bring a note from the nurse. Show us you're qualified to tutor us in whichever subject was planned. I would be happy to work with you after that."

"I agree," Hermione says, "but Mum and Dad have the final say, of course."

* * *

"Ministry Witch, are you prepared to record the official results for the Ministry's records?"

Ms. Crawford answers in the affirmative as she pulls a quill and a piece of green parchment out of her bag.

"The Squib known as Emily Granger is a descendant of Caractacus Burke," the goblin says in a tone that is definitely not bored as he points to the family tree still being written on the wall in her blood. "Birth name Alavani Burke, status Squib, disappeared but not disowned. Gringotts recognizes Emily Granger, née Alavani Burke, as the rightful exile-possessor of all Burke Family vaults and property."

Ms. Crawford gasps even as the quill records the goblin's words.

"And my daughter, Hermione?"

The goblin gives a toothy grin. "Gringotts recognizes the underage witch Hermione Granger as the rightful inheritor of all Burke Family vaults and property upon reaching the age of majority. Following the rules set forth by the Burke Family in 1783, Hermione Granger will have a trust vault set up with 5,000 Galleons per annum with no spending restrictions as well as having tuition to the magical school of her choice withdrawn from a family vault each year and not counted against the 5,000 yearly trust vault deposit. As a magically adopted son not of blood descendance, Harry Granger will have the same tuition allowance and a 2,500 Galleon per annum trust vault. Gringotts welcomes the Burke Family back to the wizarding world. May your riches multiply."

The green parchment disappears with a small puff of smoke in the ensuing silence, and Ms. Crawford places the quill back in her bag with a shaking hand. "Mrs. Granger, I think it's best if we get you a few books about your wizarding family."

"Gringotts will have the trust vaults set up by the close of business today with deposits backdated to date of birth for Hermione Granger and date of magical adoption for Harry Granger," the goblin adds with a bow. "Emily Granger, you are unable to access any of the Burke Family vaults but may add spending limitations to the trust vaults of your children once the vaults are established. Granger children, each of you may make a withdrawal now that will be counted against the balance of your vaults upon opening to save the conversion fee from pounds."

Hermione grins up at her mother. "The books are on me, Mum. Ms. Crawford, how much do you think I should withdraw?"

Ten minutes later, with each child carrying enough Galleons in their pockets for plenty of wizarding treats, the Granger family and their Ministry escort leave Gringotts to purchase the books mentioned. Ms. Crawford still looks a bit shocked.

"The Burke family is known for being extremely pure-blooded," the witch explains, "and they've been thought extinct for 30 years. To have you return, officially claiming the fortunes and everything ... it's just a big surprise. Not to mention you being a Squib and your children considering themselves a Muggleborn and a half-blood!"

"Am I to understand that my ancestors were racists?"

Ms. Crawford nods. "Followers of You-Know-Who, too. Oh, I doubt your father-"

"I think I'll pass on claiming a relationship like that with the man."

"Of course. I doubt Caractacus Burke was ever a marked Death Eater, but he certainly supported the movement. Muggle champions and the Boy-Who-Lived as his descendants?" Ms. Crawford's laugh is genuine and infectious. "Oh, I hope that horrid man is rolling in his grave."

"I think I'll use his money to start a charity for Muggles and Squibs," Hermione says with a giggle.

"Or to gain support for laws that give us equal rights," Harry adds, grinning.

Emily laughs. "Alright, you two. You're eight and nine years old. Plenty of time to change the world later."

* * *

"Mum?"

Emily turns from the washing up in the sink to smile down at her son. "Yes, Harry?"

The boy shuffles his feet on the floor, then seems to slump a bit. "You want me to dry?"

"Is your homework done?" When he nods, she agrees to his offer of help. "What are you thinking about?"

"A lot of things," he tells her slowly, hands stilling on the casserole dish. 

"Things that Ms. Janelle was talking about?"

Harry's eyes jump to hers. "How did you know?"

Emily smiles at her son. He's only been with them for a couple of years, but she can read him like she birthed him. "Mother's privilege," she replies with a small laugh.

"Right, Mum." He rolls his eyes and turns back to the casserole dish, going over it once more with the towel before placing it in the cabinet where it belongs. "I was looking at the information on the different schools that she brought."

After a long moment of silence, Emily decides to speak. "Do you like any of the schools?"

Harry shrugs. "Most of them seem okay. I mean, I wouldn't want to go to Durmstrang - it's really far away, they don't tell you where it is, and you have to get special permission to visit home on breaks. It looks like a good school as far as education goes, but I think Hermione and I would both miss you."

"Have you asked her about Durmstrang?"

"No, I ... I haven't really talked to her about it at all." He drops the towel suddenly and flings his arms around his mother. "Mum, are you sure you want us to go to school?"

Emily freezes at the fear in his voice, then quickly puts her arms around him, grabbing the towel he dropped as she moves. She dries her hands behind his back even as she squeezes him tightly. "Oh, Harry. There are so many different answers to that question. Do you want to hear them all?" He nods against her chest, turning to hide his face. She can feel tears seeping through her shirt. He's only cried in front of her once before, and that was when he learned the truth about his birth parents' death. "If you chose to go to a school that didn't let you visit us on breaks, I would be sad and want to know why, but I wouldn't prevent it. If you chose to stay in the local nonmagical schools, I would be concerned that you weren't learning something so important to who you are - Janelle said that it could hurt you if you don't learn to control it, after all - so I don't really know what I would do in that case. If you wanted to go to a boarding school that teaches magic, I would miss you but look forward to seeing you on breaks and write to you all the time so I didn't miss anything in your life. Of course, if you told me you wanted to quit school entirely and never learn anything ... well, in that case, yes, you do have to go to school." She makes sure to overdo the teasing in her voice at the end.

"Do you want us to go away to school? Do you want me to live somewhere else?"

He sounds like he's not crying anymore, but there's still a lot of tension in his frame. Even if she couldn't feel that or hear it in his voice, she'd know this question was a very fraught one for her new son.

"Harry, I want you to be happy and healthy. That comes first. It's clear to me that you have to learn magic to be healthy, so I want you to learn magic one way or another. If you think you would be happier at a boarding school, then I want you to go to boarding school to learn. If you think you would be happier commuting to a day school, we will find a way to get you there on time every day. If you want to stay in your current school and learn magic from a tutor after school, we will do that.

"You're my son. Do I want you to live somewhere else? Part of me is never going to want you to leave home, not even when you're married and have children, but I know that's not reasonable. One day, you'll have to move out, though I expect you to still visit, of course. You are not moving out today, Harry. Even if you decide to start in a boarding school, that's a while in the future. When you go off to school, this is still your home. You would still live here. You would stay at school during term, of course, but it wouldn't be your home. This house is your home. You live here, not somewhere else.

"I wish you and Hermione would stay young forever, living with your father and me forever. I don't want you to grow up and go away to school, but you will. You are already growing up. If you go away for school next year, I will be very proud of you. If you choose to stay here and learn another way, I will be very proud of you. We will figure out what's best for you together, Harry."

He sniffles quietly when she finishes but doesn't speak, just hanging on. Emily sees Hermione peek her head in the kitchen before offering a questioning smile and leaving the two alone. She rubs Harry's back gently until he finally pulls back.

"You'll be proud of me if I decide I'm not brave enough to go to boarding school?"

Emily puts a finger over his lips to quiet him. "I will be proud of you for getting to know yourself well enough to know what you want and what will work best for you. It doesn't matter what that decision is, as long as it's what's right for you."

"But staying home and getting tutors is a lot of money," he says from behind the finger, and she pulls it away with an exaggerated grimace, wiping imaginary spit on her shirt. He smiles at her antics. "I don't think either of my trust vaults would pay for it."

"Harry, do you do the finances in this house?"

He shakes his head mutely.

"Do you have to pay the bills, buy the groceries, or have a job?"

He shakes his head again.

"Your father and I know what we can afford, and that's the best education. Don't think about the money, kiddo. I promise you that if we can't make your first choice work out, we will all talk about it and find a way that we can afford."

Harry still looks troubled at the thought.

"If you choose a school, you have one wizarding family's vaults all set up to pay for it automatically and two trust vaults to help out. If we do tutoring instead, you still have two trust vaults to help out if necessary. I would rather save that for you to use for college or buying a house when you're ready for that, but if we need to put some of it to your education, well, that's what your birth parents intended. They wouldn't want you to be unhappy or uneducated, and that's how your father and I feel, too."

"What about Hermione?"

Emily frowns. "Well, the same thing goes for her about school."

"No, what about paying for her tutoring if we do that? If I use my vaults to help with my tutoring, I want to help with hers the same amount."

"She has her own trust vault, Harry, but I think your father and I would rather cover the tutoring ourselves."

"But if you can't, I want to help."

No matter how much money they need to cover the costs for both of their children to go to whatever school they choose or have whatever extra tutoring they want or need, it doesn't make a difference how they say they portioned it. Tell Harry they split it between him and Hermione, tell themselves they used it only for him. "I have to talk to your father before I agree to that," she warns, "but I appreciate you caring about your sister and being so generous."

"You promise you'll talk to him about it?"

"I promise."

Harry fidgets for a long moment before finally caving to his mother's calm gaze and patience. "What if Hermione and I can't agree on what's the best school?" he asks so quietly that Emily's absolutely certain this has been bothering him at least as much as anything else they've talked about.

"There's no such thing as an absolute best school," she answers slowly. "There can be a school that's best for you, but it won't be the best school for someone else. It turns out that you and Hermione have two different schools as what's best for each of you, that's okay. We will love and support both of you, even if you're at different schools. It might mean that one of us drops off each of you instead of us all being able to go as a family, but it doesn't change anything else."

"I don't know if I want to go without her," the boy mumbles, looking at his feet. "What if I go to a school you don't think is as good for me just so I can be with her?"

"If you'll be happier with your sister, that makes a big difference. I want you safe and happy; don't forget that. Besides, you can't learn as well if you're unhappy."

Harry nods, but Emily doesn't think he's entirely convinced.

"Hermione?" she calls, and her daughter pokes her head around the door frame so quickly that it's clear she's been eavesdropping. "Come here, sweetie."

"I'll be happier with you, too," Hermione says in a rush as she throws her arms around her brother. "We can look at the schools together and pick one that's good for both of us, even if it's not the best for either of us alone. It'll be the best if we're together."

Harry finally relaxes and puts one arm around his sister. "You mean it? You want me with you?"

Hermione huffs and tweaks his nose. "Yes, brat. You're my little brother. How am I supposed to keep you in line if you're not with me?"

"I'm the one who will be keeping you in line," Harry counters immediately. "Without me, you would read all the time and never sleep or eat."

Hermione opens her mouth to argue, then shuts it and hums. "Okay, you might have a point," she finally concedes.

Emily laughs aloud at this. "You two will be just fine taking care of each other," she tells them, fully believing it. They round out each other's weak points very well.

* * *

Remus has just kicked off from the ground when he hears his telephone ring. Grateful he hadn't gone farther from his home, he turns the broom in a gentle arc, points his wand at the enlarged window on the upper level of his repurposed bus, and murmurs, "Alohomora!" As soon as the latch disengages, the window falls open - Remus is pleased with the first successful test of his remote-opening broom entrance. He swoops into the bus and dismounts his Cleansweep on the rug positioned just slightly too close to the broom entrance, leaving the broom to hover where it sits as he hurries toward the stairs at the other end of the bus and down to the first level where his remodeling is complete so far. He snatches the telephone from its receiver and holds it to his ear. "Lupin."

"Remus, hello!"

"Emily! Are the kids okay?"

He can almost hear her smile over the phone. "Yes, they are, and so is Sam. I just had a question for you about one of their assignments. Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, but would you mind if I charmed the phone to my ear and went up on my broom first? I'm trying to get some work done on the windmill before sunset."

There's an almost absurdly long silence. Just as Remus opens his mouth to ask if she's still there, Emily responds. "I'm curious if charming phones and flying on brooms while you talk is normal wizarding behavior, but I'm somehow more curious why you have a windmill."

Remus laughs loudly. "That is probably a sign that you've really acclimated to interacting with magical people! Using a telephone at all isn't normal wizarding behavior, but even among those who do, I doubt most would be comfortable flying and talking. I'll only be hovering once I get up there; I certainly wouldn't attempt anything complicated while on the phone. It's a bit like driving a car and using a phone, I would imagine. As for charming them, yes. Most magical phone users who are able to do the charm have their phones follow them around, floating at their ear. It saves the arm from getting tired holding it up."

"That sounds heavenly. Go ahead and fly up to the windmill, Remus. Let me know when you're settled and ready to chat."

"Thanks, Emily." He climbs the stairs to the upper level of the bus, pausing partway down the aisle toward his broom. "Emily, do you have any desire for some old bus seats? They're in good shape - or rather, they will be, after a few Reparos - but I'm planning to convert the top level of this bus into a nicer kitchen and move my bedroom upstairs, so the seats are coming out anyway."

There's another silence, and Emily Granger's voice is almost scandalized when she finally replies. "You live in a bus? Remus, is that by necessity or because you're eccentric?"

He hesitates with one hand on the Cleansweep. "I don't think anyone would deny that I'm eccentric."

"But that's not the only reason you live in a bus."

"It's not so bad, Emily. You've seen some of what magic can do. When I get the top half remodeled, there will be undetectable expansion charms on my bedroom and sitting room. Cushioning charms can turn almost anything into a seat or chair."

"If you had a choice, would you live in a bus?"

"Just a minute. I'm going to fly up to the windmill." He swings his leg over the broom and kicks off rather harder than he really should when aiming for a small opening in the wall of a bus, but he makes it through without incident. If he had a choice, he wouldn't have lycanthropy, and without lycanthropy, he'd have a wider selection of careers, better pay, and fewer medical bills, which would lead to never having considered living in an old broken down double decker bus. But he has lycanthropy, and it's ended up bringing him the best tutoring job he could ever have hoped for (after all, if he hadn't just lost a job for missing too many full moons, he wouldn't have been available to tutor the Grangers), and it led him to this eclectic bus in the middle of nowhere, and he's getting rather fond of the old thing. Not to mention, he's sure any alternative Emily's considering would be charity of one sort or another. "Sorry, I'm back. I'm sitting on a magic broomstick hovering at the top of a windmill. Ever think you'd talk to someone doing that?"

"Never, but don't change the subject!"

Remus laughs again. He knew he wouldn't get away with it, but he had to try at least once. "If I had a choice, right now, I would choose to stay in my bus. I'm enjoying learning the remodeling spells and getting to customize it exactly the way I want." He looks down at the bus from above. The top of it had been silver when he'd bought it, but he's since painted it a dark blue and added a full moon in the center with a stag on one side of it and a large dog and small rat on the other side. The yellow sides of the bus look a bit odd compared to the blue, but he hasn't decided if he's going to continue the blue on the entire outside or find some other color to use.

"Are you lying to me, Remus Lupin?"

"I'm too afraid of you to ever lie, Emily Granger."

Emily snorts a very undignified laugh over the line, making Remus smile. He turns away from his bus home and back to the windmill in front of him. A simple Reparo hadn't been able to do anything from the ground, and it's obvious why that was the case now that he's seeing it up close; the metal is twisted around itself beyond recognition of the correct pattern. When something is more broken than intact, Reparo can't work out what to fix. "So, the assignment for the kids?"

"The essay on alohomara."

"Alohomora," Remus corrects gently. "The unlocking spell."

"Yes, they explained what it does. Now, you asked for three times that they shouldn't try to use it on a sealed door. Harry said it only works on physical locks, so a spell holding the door shut is their first example. Hermione found a small reference in a book to it not working on new electronic locks, so that's their second example. They can't find a third, though. What book should they be looking in?"

Remus grins to himself as he spins the windmill to look at other parts of it. "Ah, the curse of Ravenclaws," he tells the concerned mother. "They think everything is just found in a book. Emily, if they can hear you, don't say the answer, but step back from the magic. When should you not unlock a door?"

There's a short moment of silence, then she whispers, "Oh. Oh, you sneaky man."

"There's more to magic than knowing the spells," he replies with a bigger grin. "Wingardium leviosa!" A tangled blade lifts slowly from the windmill, and Remus directs it carefully to the ground, where he'll attempt to straighten and strengthen it before reinstalling it.

"What?"

"Ah, sorry, I was moving a piece of the windmill."

She laughs. "I forgot you were hovering on a stick while talking about homework. What are you doing to the windmill, anyway? Making it work better with magic?"

"Hardly. Part of my rent to park the bus here is to repair this windmill. It's mangled, Emily. Completely unsalvageable. Unless you happen to be a, er, a windmill expert?"

"By which you mean a covert wizard."

"Precisely. I have an enchantment projecting the equipment I'd need to be up here if I were a muggle, and meanwhile I use broom and wand."

"Remus Lupin, windmill expert and setter of sneaky essay topics. How much help should I give the kids to find the third reason?"

He shrugs as he finds the next blade to levitate to the ground. "I trust you. Start with telling them to think outside of the box, probably, but try not to tell them to ignore magic like I told you. Wingardium leviosa!"

"I do hope you'll invite us to see your renovated windmill when you've finished it," Emily says offhandedly, but Remus can hear something in her voice that says she won't forget.

"I promise my bus is safer than your house. Well, except for the wards protecting Harry, that is. It's also quite comfortable for a bus home, thanks to magic."

"It's that qualification of 'for a bus home' that concerns me, Remus. It would concern the whole family, if anyone else knew."

He sighs. "I'll plan a field trip to a small, unconventional wizarding home for the four of you soon. Three weeks from now?"

"That's a good man. Let us know what you'd like as a housewarming gift."

"Emily!"

The phone swoops away from Remus's ear and heads back to his bus to hang itself on the receiver again before he can even register the click of his conversation partner hanging up on him. By the unspoken rules of their odd friendship, the Grangers had just won the right to give Remus however exorbitant a housewarming present they wanted to. He rolled his eyes and made a mental note to come up with a request for something nice enough that they'd not get him anything extra but not so pricey he would feel bad about receiving it.

* * *

"Mum, Dad, do you have a minute?"

Sam and Emily put their books down simultaneously and turn to their children, who are hovering in the doorway. "Come on in," he tells them, patting the couch beside him. Emily slides over to make room for them both to squeeze in between their parents. "We have as many minutes as you need."

"Until bedtime," Harry points out.

"I think you're old enough to know a secret," Emily says in a hushed tone. "If what you need to talk about is important enough, we might make your bedtime a little bit later to finish talking about it."

Hermione giggles briefly, but it doesn't last as long as Sam would like. "We want to talk about school for next year."

"We've talked about it just the two of us a lot," Harry explains.

"There are a few schools that are all good, but they all have bad points."

"The day school is pretty far away and expects us to use nonmagical transportation to get there every day. It also doesn't have a great reputation for the higher level subjects. Apparently most of its students live close by and go for the first few years, then they transfer to a boarding school for the last few years."

"The boarding school that lets us keep taking the nonmagical subjects doesn't have a great reputation for any subject - not a bad one, just not a good one."

"We don't know any other languages well enough to go any schools that don't use English, so that rules out all the ones on the continent."

"And you know how I feel about Durmstrang in particular, anyway," Harry reminds Emily, looking down at his feet.

Sam looks questioningly at his wife, and she fills him in. "They don't like students leaving on breaks," she explains.

"Ah. I will admit that I'm not much a fan of that, either."

Hermione smiles up at her father. "So that really leaves us with the schools in America or Hogwarts, in Scotland, that Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster of."

"We'd like to write to the American schools," Harry says slowly.

"Maybe visit them this summer, if any of them seem really good? But we think we'll probably end up going to Hogwarts."

"My birth parents went there," Harry whispers.

Emily puts an arm around Harry's shoulders as Hermione explains. "We read that in one of the history books we ordered. It looks like the Potters have gone to Hogwarts for years. The school doesn't offer any nonmagical subjects, but I think we can study those on our own and have you two help us on breaks. It has a really good reputation for all the magical subjects except History of Magic - but we can study that outside of class, too - and apparently there have been a lot of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers lately, so that has slipped a bit, but it's still pretty well respected."

"We can definitely help with your nonmagical studies," Sam agrees, proud that his magical children don't want to completely abandon the world they were raised in. Then again, writing and math are pretty important for anyone to know, so it could just be their common sense, not that he wouldn't be proud of them using logic!

"Maybe we can meet with Mr. Dumbledore about those classes to see if he can make them better. If not, maybe he can arrange for you to do independent study for those courses," Emily ponders.

"My parents are buried in a magical town," Harry says suddenly.

There's a short silence before Hermione jumps in. "Can we find a way to take Harry to visit them?"

"We will definitely try," Sam promises, knowing his wife will agree.

"Maybe Remus will come with us, since he was friends with your parents," Emily adds.

Harry shrugs. "I kind of ... maybe not the first time? I like him, but I think I want it to be just family. And someone who didn't know them, or at least not well, showing us where they're buried. Maybe Ms. Janelle could take us. Unless it would upset Remus!"

"Hush, Harry," Hermione says, stepping close and wrapping her arms around her brother's waist, careful not to dislodge their mom's arm from Harry's shoulders. "Remus will understand."

After a moment, Sam watches his ladies step back from Harry, and a thought strikes him suddenly. "Er, are we okay if I change the subject a little bit?"

Harry nods, knuckling at his eyes.

"I think we should see if Remus can do the independent studies for History of Magic and Defense Against the Darkness. If he's there to help you with your nonmagical studies, why not the magical ones, too? If he's willing and qualified, of course."

Emily smiles at her husband. "I don't see a problem with it."

"I like it," Hermione adds.

"Me, too," Harry puts in.

"Alright. Your mother or I will ask him about it the next time we see him, then."

* * *

Remus hesitates outside of the door, glances back over his shoulder to see Harry’s adoptive parents nod encouragingly at him. He knocks gently. “Harry? Can I come in?"

There’s a sniffle that he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to hear if not for his werewolf-enhanced senses. “Why?"

“So I can talk to you. Apologize to you. Tell you what I was trying to say. Restart our friendship, if you’d like that."

“But I don’t know if I can trust you,” Harry replies slowly. “I can’t get any kind of idea about you."

Remus leans his forehead against the doorframe and sighs, cursing his affliction yet again. “I know. There’s nothing I can do about that, Harry. But most people can’t read others the way you can. Is it so awful to take me the way I come, the way most people have to take the people they meet?"

The silence screams yes louder than Harry’s young lungs could ever hope to. Remus closes his eyes and sags a little bit. “I promise that I have never lied to you. I’ve not answered some questions, but I’ve always told you that I’ve done that. I don’t intend to change that as long as I’m alive. You mean too much to me for me to ever jeopardize our relationship."

“Because I’m—“ Harry cuts off abruptly. “Come in,” he says quietly. “Just you."

Emily Granger smiles softly at Remus when he turns back to look at the rest of Harry’s family. “We’ll be in the living room if you need us,” she tells him as she herds her husband and daughter away. Remus reaches for the handle to the bathroom door and lets himself in quietly.

Remus hasn’t been in this bathroom before, but the first thing that strikes him is how dark Harry’s hair looks among the white walls and furnishings. Harry’s face is nearly as white as the pedestal sink he’s taken refuge under. His knees are pulled up to his chin, and a white towel is wrapped tightly around his shoulders and encompassing his shins, where his arms are surely hugging his legs to him. Remus shuts the door behind him and sinks onto the closed lid of the toilet, the farthest thing from Harry except for the chair that holds a bath brush he doesn’t particularly want to sit on.

“I’m sorry for the way my words sounded to you,” he tells Harry, quietly but sincerely. “I absolutely did not mean to hurt you with them.” Harry studies his face in silence, so Remus continues trying to explain himself. “I know that Sam Granger is your father now, but James Potter is the father I knew first for you, the man I knew growing up, and the man I see in your face every time I look at you. When I said that, I was talking about James, and I meant it as a gentle teasing. James would have meant it as a gentle teasing. I … Your life hasn’t been the way James and Lily meant it to be."

Harry turns away sharply at this, and Remus grimaces at another misstep. “Every parent intends to be there as their child grows up,” he tries to explain. “No parent wants their child to end up with someone like the Dursleys."

The boy under the sink slowly looks at him again. “But Emily and Sam…."

Remus smiles sadly. “James and Lily would be happy that you found such wonderful parents, Harry. I know that absolutely. I also know they’d rather they’d lived to raise you, because then you wouldn’t have had to deal with the Dursleys at all. That doesn’t mean they’d be upset that you’re with Sam and Emily; they would be upset that you … that the Dursleys made you need Sam and Emily. Does that make sense?"

Harry glances away and chews on his bottom lip, but Remus thinks he recognizes the look Harry has when he’s trying to learn a complicated magical theory. It’s not avoiding the others in the room; it’s taking a moment to himself to think more easily. “The Potters would think the ideal world is them being alive and me not knowing the Grangers because it would also mean me not knowing the Dursleys. Not having the goodness of the Grangers to also not have the badness of the Dursleys. But because they’re … because I had to know the Dursleys, that’s not what they meant my life to be. But since it was that way, they’d think the best life for me is to leave the Dursleys and be with the Grangers. The way it is.” He looks back at Remus. “That’s what you think they’d think?"

The man nods slowly but emphatically. “It is."

“And what do you think?"

Remus feels a rueful half-smile slide onto his face. “The same thing."

“Are you ashamed that I like to learn, too?"

The blood drains from Remus’s face. Shit. That’s … exactly what he’d told Harry downstairs. “No. No, Harry. No. And James wouldn’t be either. Never."

The towel wrapped around Harry’s shoulders flips up suddenly to cover Harry’s head as his forehead crashes to his knees. “You lied. Now or earlier. I don’t know which. How can I trust you?"

Remus slides off the toilet and crouches in front of Harry, reaching a hand toward him only to have the boy flinch away at the slightest contact. He drops his hand into his lap and rocks forward to kneel on the bathmat just to Harry’s left. “I … Harry, I … I don’t know how to explain this to you. You weren’t raised the way I keep thinking you were, and I know that; I just forget. James liked to tease. He’d take a trait that he liked in you but that he didn’t have himself, and he would tease about it. It was a way of showing that he cared about you and that he liked that trait. He told me all the time that it was a shame I liked to study so much. He told your mother she was too feisty. He told … one of our other friends … that he liked tall girls too much. None of those were things he actually disliked, Harry. He loved those things about each of us. He loved each of us. Teasing us about how we were different from him was one of the most common ways he told us he loved us, especially before your mother - your Potter mother, I mean, Lily - helped him learn how to just tell us he cared about us.” Remus groans and pulls himself up from the floor to sit on the edge of the bathtub, out of reach of Harry to remove the temptation to touch his young friend as he continued. "What I said downstairs … James said that to me all the time, Harry. He’d come find me in the library after he’d pulled some interested prank. He’d pull up a chair to my table, rock back onto the back two legs of the chair, put his hands behind his head, and say, ‘Moony, old pal, it’s a shame you like to study so much. You missed some real fireworks just now.’ Or he’d find me in the common room and take that same pose, ruffle his hair like he was a bit uncertain of himself, and say, ‘Moony, my friend, I’m almost ashamed of how much you like to learn. You should at least learn something fun, like….’ And then he’d tell me about his latest idea for a prank and get me to help him figure out how to pull it off. He wasn’t really ashamed. He liked it. It was … It was kind of how he would start a conversation sometimes, how he would lead into what he really wanted to say. It was a way that he could acknowledge what I was doing, who I was, and then connect it to who he was and what he wanted us to do together.

“If you had grown up with your par- with your Potter parents, you would be familiar with the way James teased. You’d already know how much affection and love he meant by that, and you’d know that I meant it the same way. You’d have looked at my grin and returned it and understood that my comment really meant that your dad - Dad Potter - and I were both proud of you and loved you. But you grew up with those awful Dursleys, and even your Granger parents with all their love haven’t been able to make up for the way those horrid people treated you. I was trying to be funny, I was trying to connect with you through your Dad Potter, and I was trying to tell you I was proud of you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t just say it straight to you, Harry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made it seem like your Dad Potter wouldn’t love you, because I know - I _know_ \- he loves you, with all his heart. I know he’s so proud of you he would just burst with it. I feel the same way, kiddo. And more than anything, I’m sorry that you had to grow up the way you did, where all those horrible words were actually meant, where you didn’t have fond jokes and love. I’m sorry I let you down.” Remus blinks hard, trying to clear the pooling tears from his eyes so he can see the contrast of his brown shoes against the green bathmat, but suddenly there’s a rush of movement and he’s thrown almost violently backwards. His arms come up automatically to catch Harry against him. The two of them fall into the tub, Remus’s head cracking against the windowsill running along the side of the tub as his bottom connects soundly against the porcelain.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says into Remus’s chest, voice catching as his arms wind around Remus’s middle. “I’m sorry I didn’t grow up with them, I’m sorry I didn’t know Dad Potter’s jokes, I’m sorry I made you feel bad for me, I’m sorry you miss Dad Potter so much, I’m sorry—"

“Shh,” Remus interrupts, vaguely noticing the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. His head throbs, and he imagines he can feel blood dripping down his hair and staining the pristine white of the windowsill. “Don’t be sorry, Harry. It’s not your fault. We’ll just move forward from here, okay?"

“You feel the same way?” Harry asks hesitantly, tear-stained face lifting to Remus’s. “Dad Potter is proud and loves me, and you…."

“I’m proud, too,” Remus agrees as the bathroom door flings open to reveal a worried Granger family. “I love you, too. Just as much as your Dad Potter, just as much as your Mum Potter, just as much as your Mum and Dad Granger, just as much as your sister.” He lifts his head from the windowsill as Emily Granger encourages it silently, grimacing as her fingers probe a very tender spot. “Harry, can we get out of the bathtub?"

Harry freezes and looks around the room. Remus shuts his eyes and bites back a pained noise as Emily presses Harry’s discarded towel against the back of his head. “Did I hurt your head?” the boy asks hesitantly.

“A bit,” Remus shrugs, “but I know you didn’t mean to. The hug was worth it, and so was clearing the air between us."

Harry slides off Remus’s lap to sit beside him in the tub. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he replies quietly, “but I’m glad we’re okay now."

Remus opens his eyes and turns to meet Harry’s gaze despite Emily’s orders not to move his head. “Me too.” He braces his hands against the bottom of the tub and tries to lift himself off his bruised tailbone enough to get his feet, still hanging over the side of the tub, onto the floor. His left hand slips, and he grunts in pain as his bottom makes hard contact with the tub again. Sam Granger is in front of him in an instant, offering a hand to pull him up as his wife keeps pressure on the back of his head. He spares a moment’s thought for his dark blood staining their beautiful white bathroom and its equally white towels, but the manly hug he’s pulled into as soon as he regains his feet on the bathmat sends the idea flying from his mind.

“You’re part of this family now,” Sam whispers in Remus’s ear. Remus grins and squeezes Harry’s Dad Granger.

“Good, because I wouldn’t leave Harry now,” he replies at the same volume.

Emily huffs loudly. “If you boys are done with your injurious manly bonding time, Remus, we do have a perfectly serviceable chair you could sit in while I tend to your bleeding scalp."

“Here, Harry, can you put this in the tub?” Hermione says somewhere in the background, and Remus shuts his eyes again as the whole family guides him into a chair.

“Don’t get any of my blood in yours,” he says quietly, feeling as though the room is miles away from wherever he is. “Or in your mouth or anything."

* * *

Harry stares at the statue in front of him as though he can memorize the faces of his parents from stone. He tries to imagine them as real people - moving around, cooking meals, playing with him, putting him to bed - but his imagination provides these stone caricatures instead of flesh and blood people. He shakes his head and turns away from their still faces to read the plaque on the memorial.

_In Grateful Memory_  
James Henry Potter  
Lily Evans Potter 

_With Gratitude and Hope_  
Harry James Potter  
The Boy-Who-Lived 

He wonders if they would change his name on it, but then he wonders if it's even worth it. Their guide and protection for this trip, Auror Shacklebolt, keeps calling Harry by his former last name before correcting himself. If a professional like that can't remember, maybe the whole wizarding world is going to ignore his adoption. Maybe Harry Granger will only ever exist in the nonmagical world.

Harry reaches for the statue, somehow surprised to feel cool stone under his hand despite knowing it's not actually his birth parents. He glances around, then decides he doesn't care if it's not seemly. He's a part of the statue, so surely that gives him some sort of special rights. He climbs up onto his birth mother's knee and stares at his stone baby self. He doesn't recognize himself. A finger slowly traces a lightning bolt onto the baby's face, but he turns away with a sigh to look at his birth mother's face. He sets his hand on her cheek, then reaches over to do the same to his father. The stone people don't react, and even though he wasn't expecting them to, it's still a disappointment.

"Okay," he says quietly, sitting on his birth mother's knee to slide back to the ground. "Auror Shacklebolt?"

The man bows just slightly. "Yes, Mr. Po- Granger. Their grave is in the cemetery." He leads the family through several rows before stopping and gesturing them ahead of him. "Second stone past this," he says, and Harry hesitates again.

"Mum?"

"We'll wait or come as you prefer," she answers, and Harry nods.

"Hermione?" He holds out a hand, and his sister takes it with a gentle squeeze.

The two children walk to the gravestone together, and Harry hesitates again.

"They won't mind," Hermione says quietly after a minute, and Harry nods.

"It's just weird. Knowing that I'm about to step on the bodies of my first parents."

She nods and waits for him to take the first step before joining him on top of their grave. They come to a stop just in front of the headstone, a simple square with his parents names and dates on it. "The last enemy that shall be defeated is death," he reads in a whisper. "Is that what you did for me, or is that how you feel about your own death?"

They stand quietly before Harry sits cross-legged on his mother's side of the grave, pulling Hermione down beside him and ignoring the fact that she's probably sitting on his birth father's chest.

"Hi, Mum Potter. Dad Potter. I hope you don't mind that I changed my name. Mum and Dad Granger ... well. I guess I think they're what you'd be like, so I think you'd be glad I found them, right?" Hermione squeezes his hand again as he falls silent.

"Auror Shacklebolt said he knew you, Mr. Potter," Hermione says after a few minutes. "He said Harry looks just like you - and we know that from the history books, too. He says Harry has your eyes, Mrs. Potter, though he didn't know you very well. So I hope that with Harry looking like you and having James as his middle name-"

"I'm proud to look like you," Harry interrupts suddenly. "I'm proud of my birth parents. I like knowing that you fought against the bad guys and were so good at it. I'm just also proud of Mum and Dad Granger." He turns and beckons his parents to come join him. As they step up to the grave, he looks back to the headstone. "So, Mum and Dad Potter, meet Mum and Dad Granger."

There's another long silence before his mother quietly says, "Lily, James, we'll do everything we can for our Harry. He's lucky to have four parents that love him so much."

Harry sniffles, suddenly realizing that his cheeks are streaked with tears. "I love her, Mum Potter. She's so good to me, and I love her. I wish I hadn't needed new parents, but I did, and I don't even remember you. The books say you died protecting me, which I guess means you loved me, but I don't remember you. I don't know how to love you when I don't remember you!"

"It's okay, Harry," Mum Granger says, resting a hand on his shoulder. "If something had happened to me, I would understand that. I would be glad you found someone to love, someone who loves you back. It's okay."

"I wish I remembered them," he whispers. "Auror Shacklebolt can tell me about Dad Potter’s Auror training some, but he didn't really know Mum Potter. And Remus’s stories ... they're better than nothing, but...."

Dad Granger set his hand on Harry's other shoulder. "We'll find someone else who knew your Mum Potter, Harry. We'll find you some stories about her, too. Maybe the wizarding world has some kind of video of them. We’ll find everything we can for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Two scenes from this fic were written for a GYWO 2016 bingo card for the following image prompts: http://x.getyourwordsout.net/bingo15/15.jpg [an abandoned double decker bus and a broken windmill in an empty dirt lot with a couple of scrawny trees] and http://x.getyourwordsout.net/bingo15/32.jpg [a very white, very orderly bathroom with a bathtub under a windowsill, a pedestal sink beside the tub, a toilet opposite the tub, a chair at the bottom of the tub with three towels and a bath brush on it, and a green bathmat positioned at the tub and sink]
> 
> A third scene was written for a fic_promptly (DW) prompt: "Harry Potter, any pairing, "Don't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling."" at http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/68753.html?thread=3456145#cmt3456145


End file.
